


30 Days Of Winter

by quokkall



Category: NCIS
Genre: 30 day challenge, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Snippets, Snow, Snowed In, Suspense, TIVA - Freeform, Winter, snow fights, write about winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-03 20:20:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 20,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8728801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quokkall/pseuds/quokkall
Summary: Snippets based on the 30 day challenge - write about winter. One-shots, Tony and Ziva but not necessarily Tiva.





	1. First Snow

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I started the 30 day write about winter challenge in an attempt to practice writing faster and not over-analyze everything. Not sure how long I can keep up, especially because I got sidetracked for hours while writing this. So much for good intentions…
> 
> But, here's day 1: Write about a character seeing snow for the first time.

She had been around nine years old the first time she saw snow. She had run outside in the middle of breakfast, dragging her little sister with her. Even their mother, who had grown up in Be'er Sheva, had walked outside with a smile and marveled at the white flakes falling from the sky.

Fantasies of snowball fights and snowmen, of sledding down the street, had run through her head as she tried to catch the flakes on her tongue, little Tali copying her every move.

The fun hadn’t lasted long, but the magic had. Almost as soon as the snow had touched the ground it turned to slush. And after what had felt like mere seconds, her mother had herded them back inside to finish breakfast and get ready for school.

She had called her father that evening, begging him to take them to Jerusalem that weekend where, according to the news, the snow was piled up high. He had laughed and promised he would, and she had dreamt about pulling her little sister through the winding streets of Jerusalem on a sled.

Friday had come and gone in a blur, and then it was Saturday morning and her father had looked at her apologetically; he had to go to Tel Aviv for work. She had burst out in anger, he had promised, after all, and when she had tried to hit him, he had grabbed her arm roughly.

With a stern expression he had told her, in his loud, booming voice, that you cannot always get what you want. That there are more important things in life than what you want or need.

Tali had started crying at the commotion, and he had blamed her for her sister’s tears. “Learn to control emotions,” he had shouted at her angrily. And she had. Well, mostly.

A heavy groan brought her back to the present.

“I hate snow,” her partner said as he walked up to her. She kept her eyes on the snowfall outside, unsure of how she felt about the tiny ice crystals covering everything in a white blanket.

What she had seen all those years ago in her home country paled in comparison to the blizzard that had swept over the Navy Yard hours earlier. Everything seemed softer, brighter, quieter. Somehow…more welcoming.

“I’m starting an office pool on your survival chances of driving in this weather.”

Perhaps not everything was more welcoming.

He narrowed his eyes at her non-reaction. “Why aren’t you hating on snow? You’re from the desert, this is probably your version of hell.”

She pressed her lips together, considering how much she should share.

“I have never been in a snowball fight,” she said looking him in the eye.

His face split into the wide grin she had gotten used to these past few months.

“Technically, we’re still on our lunch break. Come on,” he said, and headed for the elevator while whipping out his phone and sending a text.

They stepped into the elevator just as his phone alerted a new message.

“Abby and McGee will meet us at the back.” He tilted his chin and looked down at her. “Should I explain the rules of snowball warfare to you?”

She rolled her eyes and huffed. “Snow only, yes? No touching?”

“Well, if you wanna grope a little-“

She dug her elbow in his side and he grunted dramatically.

“Just so we’re clear, you’re on my team,” he said with a glare.

At the ding of the elevator, she cracked her knuckles and walked out into the cold white landscape, feeling nine years old again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I messed up some tenses in the first chapter (I tried not to, I really did, it's one of the reasons I got sidetracked for hours looking at grammar while writing this, also, I now know everything there is to know about the weather in Israel from the past century...), so apologies.


	2. Iced

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Didn’t get distracted this time, so, yay me. 
> 
> Day 2: Write about an icicle. (Admittedly, I didn’t really write much about the icicle itself, but I think this is more fun.)

Tony took one look at the icicle protruding from the victim’s chest, and said, “This reminds me of-“

“A movie?” Ziva and McGee said in unison, looking at each other with a smirk.

Maybe he was getting a little bit too predictable. He stared straight ahead, slightly annoyed, but then he realized he had almost admitted to seeing a Disney princess movie and was secretly grateful his coworkers had cut him off. Must have been the snowman on the front lawn. Surely he had seen a more manly movie involving icicles?

Tony snapped a few pictures of the body, then, as usual, one of Ziva. It helped balance the gore and darkness, or so he claimed whenever she confronted him about his habit of photographing coworkers on the job. He assumed she had noticed the scales dipping in her favor years ago, but she never mentioned it. And if she had the chance, she removed her pictures from the card and sent them to him before Gibbs would notice.

Ziva paused her sketching and leaned closer to the body to examine the now melting murder weapon. Her eyebrows furrowed then released as a slow smile built.

A shiver ran down his spine. The last thing Ziva needed to know was yet another method to kill.

But then she snapped her fingers and pointed at him, eyes wide and smiling brightly. “It was not a movie, it was an episode of CSI, yes?

Relieved he didn’t have to admit it had reminded him of Olaf impaling himself, he replied, “You watch CSI?”

Ziva shrugged and resumed sketching. “Abby makes me watch it with her sometimes. She likes to complain about the inaccuracies.”

Tony raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Sounds like you and action movies.”

She glared at him, and for a split second Tony was worried about getting iced by his partner.

He cleared his throat, loosened his tie a bit, and said, “We should probably focus and work faster, our evidence is melting.”


	3. Snowed In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m actually having fun with this 30 day challenge, who’d have thought. Thank you for reading, reviewing, whatever, I hope you're enjoying this series as much as I am. And thank you for appeasing my grammar qualms from the first chapter (let me tell you, your brain suddenly forgetting how to do things you used to be good at is the worst).
> 
> Day 3: Write about a snow storm.

Tony tapped the door with his foot, shoulders hunched up to his ears to protect against the raging snow storm. It wasn’t very effective.

The door cracked open a few inches, a sliver of Ziva’s face coming into focus, before she opened the door completely. He watched her put away her gun and chuckled to himself as he almost leapt through the door into the welcoming heat.

“I was gone for a couple of minutes, who did you think it was going to be, the Abominable Snowman?”

Ziva narrowed her eyes slightly, then looked at his arms, overflowing with candy. “I’m certain the Yeti would have brought me something more substantial than a diabetic coma.”

She was looking a little too smug to his liking, but the way she swiped the snow from his hair made up for it.

“I called, he refused to make deliveries in this weather,” he deadpanned.

Tony turned towards the small table and dumped his sugary loot from raiding the vending machines at the reception. Lured by the warmth coming from the fireplace, he grabbed a Mars bar and walked five paces to cross the tiny cabin.

He let out a contented sigh, holding out his hands towards the flames, then wolfed down the candy bar in two bites before it began to melt. He shrugged out of his coat and turned his back towards the fireplace, training his eyes on Ziva.

She was staring out the window. The relaxed expression on her face was in stark contrast to the daggers she had been shooting his way half an hour ago, when he had insisted they couldn’t drive home safely in the blizzard.

Ziva’s back would make an equally good furnace as the fire burning behind him. So he walked up to her and wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his head on her shoulder to look outside.

Snow was rapidly covering their company car, and the line of trees across the road, hiding the dark forest behind them, looked about to collapse under the weight of the white blanket.

“If this storm keeps up, I’m not sure we’ll be able to make it home tomorrow.”

Ziva relaxed against him, making him focus his attention on her reflection in the window, instead of on the vacation park sign now standing at a weird angle. A small smile formed on her lips as she hummed in agreement.

Her arms came to rest on top of his, and she said in a quiet voice, “Then it’s a good thing we sent our reports to Gibbs at the sheriff’s office.” She turned her head and kissed his cheek lightly.

“Being snowed in, in a holiday cabin, on NCIS’ dime suddenly doesn’t sound so bad, does it,” he said with a chuckle, holding her tighter. 


	4. Warm Winters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How the heck do people come up with titles? Anyhoo, Tiva, on the beach.
> 
> Day 4: Write about a warm winter.

He lets the sand grains slip through his fingers and watches them fall onto her toned stomach.

“Tony, what are you doing?” She looks up from her book, annoyance written all over her face. That’s not enough to wipe the smile off of his, though.

He’s been watching her tanned body get even more tanned for an hour. Who said he had trouble focusing?

A full hour of ‘look don’t touch’ is more than enough in his book, so he slowly wipes the sand away, the rough grains contrasting with her smooth skin. She rolls her eyes and returns to her book.

No. No, that won’t do.

So he repeats the action, a little higher up her body this time.

She puts down the book and glares. “If you think you can bury me without me noticing, you have another thing coming.”

“Well,” he says and wipes the sand away again, his hand lingering on her ribcage. “Think of it this way, if I hadn’t convinced Gibbs to give us both time off, I’d be burying you in snow right now.”

She scrunches her nose, but turns on her side anyway and stares at him. He’s secretly relieved she finally focuses her attention on him instead of the damn book.

“And you’d be wearing very unattractive thermal underwear instead of a skimpy bikini.” He lets his fingers dance over her side and the corners of her mouth curve upwards slightly.

“Last winter you said my thermal underwear looked hot.”

“That’s because I was trying to get you out of it.”

Ziva slaps his arm lightly, but her dilating pupils tell him she remembers that night as fondly as he does. He leans forward and slowly caresses her lips with his, then pulls back; his swim shorts won’t hide anything if things get out of hand. And they often did.

“I could get used to a warm winter,” he murmured. “Even if it’s only for one week.”

“It will feel extra cold when we get back home.”

Tony groans and flops down on his back, eyes closed. “Don’t remind me, just let me enjoy the warmth in peace.”

A stream of sand falling onto his stomach makes him open his eyes. He watches her hand brush it away, the tips of her fingers venturing too close to the hem of his shorts. It was getting a little warm, they should probably get out of the sun, and public eye, soon.

The mischievous grin and glint in her eye aren’t exactly helping to cool things down, either.

“We will find a way to heat things up,” she says huskily as her eyes roam his body.

Yep, definitely too hot to stay outside any longer.


	5. Snowball Fights and Death Wishes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 5: Write about a snowball fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This ended up way too long, not the way I intended, has innuendo that shouldn’t be there and probably not enough snowballs for the prompt. Oh well. I sort of added the prompt “we were playing in the snow and you suddenly tackled me to the ground and now…we’re just…staring… at each other…” from this Christmas list.

Sometimes Tony wondered whether he had a death wish. Like every time he stood next to Gibbs and knew, with 100% certainty, that what he was about to say would earn him a head slap, yet he said it anyway. Or this evening, lying in wait at the edge of the dark parking lot, a pile of snowballs at his side, freezing his ass off.

He would have to catch her off-guard. Which was about as easy as catching a fly with chopsticks. His best chance would be to attack her from behind. A dick-move, yes, but really, he didn’t have any other options.

Well, aside from, you know, not engaging an Israeli ninja assassin—who had been cranky all day—in a snowball fight.

Why was he doing this again? Oh, right, death wish.

Footsteps approached the car he was hiding behind, and he made an extra effort to stay absolutely still. They slowed down, stopped, and he didn’t need a visual to know she was looking around suspiciously.

Damn spidey sense.

But then she resumed walking.

Tony stood up slowly, hoping his knee wouldn’t pop, holding two snowballs. He took aim at her back and threw.

The snowball only grazed the back of her shoulder because somehow, she had managed to duck to her left in time to avoid a full on hit. And in the split second it took for her to dodge and for him to be rooted at the spot in surprise—and awe, but mostly surprise—she had her gun trained on him.

She swore at him in Hebrew, then seemed to realize he didn’t understand a word she was saying—well, he understood a few words he had looked up over the years because she kept hurling them at him—and ended her tirade in English saying she could have shot him.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have tried to start a snowball fight with her the same day she had threatened to staple him to Vance’s door by his Armani tie.

He let out a nervous chuckle. But when she holstered her gun, his right arm seemed to have a mind of its own and threw the other snowball he had been holding. Yes, definite masochistic tendencies.

It hit her right in the face and his eyes went wide. He couldn’t resist whooping at the successful hit. How was that even possible, though, she had been staring straight at him?

But then her eyes turned to fire and she stalked towards him. He bent down, grabbed the rest of the snowballs and threw. She deflected most of them, and when he was all out of ammo, he stepped onto the snow covered patch of grass behind him to reload.

He only took his eyes off of her for a second, but when he stood up straight, she was barreling towards him. She was so close already he didn’t even have a chance to react. Before he knew it, he was flat on his back, the cold snow slowly seeping into his coat.

“You know, you’re not really supposed to tackle someone without even _trying_ to hit them with a snowball.”

“I will hit you in the snowballs,” she said, almost snarling.

He quirked an eyebrow. “So…no ‘that’s not my knee’ jokes this time, then?” Self-preservation really was a foreign concept.

The blaze in her eyes simmered down to a flicker, though. “Why exactly did you think it was a good idea to start a snowball fight with me?”

Her voice sounded sweet enough, but he knew better than to fall for that.

“You seemed stressed. I thought it might help you chillax.”

Ziva rolled her eyes. “You thought attacking _me_ from behind would help me relax?” she said incredulously.

“Well, if you put it like that…”

Her body on top of his was too much of a distraction and his gaze drifted to her mouth and back. When he saw her smoldering look, he was sure his increased body temperature would melt all the snow in the Navy Yard. What he wasn’t sure about was whether she was just playing him or actually, seriously, giving him the smolder.

He placed his hands on her waist, convinced he could feel her body heat through all the layers of fabric shielding her from the cold, and the snow underneath him seemed to turn to water faster.

Ziva was still looking at him with eyes like smoldering coals when he heard footsteps approach. Her gaze flicked to his mouth, then to the parking lot, and back to his eyes.

They should probably think about getting up. Not in the least because his ass was going numb from the cold.

“You’re still on top of me.”

The corners of her eyes crinkled as she stared at his lips again for a moment. “You never seem to like it when I’m on top of you.”

“That’s because you’re always on top of me in the wrong circumstances.”

Her mouth quirked, and yes, she was definitely leaning in a little closer now. His lips parted and he smiled slowly, because maybe these circumstances weren’t so wrong after all.

And if he lifted his head up just a little-

A snowball thwacked them both in the face due to their close proximity. Ziva sprang up with the agility of a snow leopard, pulling Tony with her—a lot less graceful and trying not to groan—and they watched the red taillights of Gibbs’ truck disappear in the distance.

They stood in silence for a few moments, Tony contemplating what could have happened, if they hadn’t been interrupted, as usual, Ziva…hopefully doing the same. He turned to look at her, anxious to find out what she was thinking. The frown he encountered was less than helpful.

He shivered, the cold from his wet clothes seeming to seep straight into his bones now that Ziva was no longer covering him like a heated blanket. “My back is freezing,” he said with a whine when she finally looked at him curiously.

“If you bring over pizza, I will rub some warmth into it,” she said in a voice that almost made him reconsider changing into dry clothes and drive straight to the nearest pizza place instead.

His face split into a grin, because, yes, this could be considered sport flirting, but Ziva would take that term literally, right? And snowball fights can be considered a sport. Sort of? So they had that part covered. And if her dark smoldering eyes were anything to go by, then yes, this was definitely real flirting.

Gibbs was going to kill him.

She looked at him over her shoulder with a smile before getting into her car, and the fluttery feeling in his stomach increased tenfold.

He always knew she’d be the death of him.


	6. Hand In Glove

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 6: Write about someone losing their gloves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn’t feel like writing today (the prompt didn’t help either), hope it’s not too obvious.

Her hands were freezing. Working a crime scene outside in the dead of winter was never comfortable. Working it after losing your gloves was almost torture. She dumped the contents of her backpack on the floor in the back of the van, hoping against hope that this time, her gloves would be in there.

Tony would make fun of her for being a bad investigator if she had missed them when she had done the same thing in the middle of the bullpen. She’d deal with it if it meant her fingers would stop hurting.

As expected, there was nothing wrong with her investigative skills, and gloves hadn’t magically appeared either. She let out a frustrated sigh, and tried to rub some warmth into her hands.

“Aww, is our desert flower wilting in the cold harsh D.C. winter,” Tony mocked as he got into the back of the van, rummaging around for supplies.

Ziva glared at him, but it did nothing to wipe the smirk of his face. He hopped out of the back to stand next to her, stuffing evidence bags in his coat.

“If you ever call me that again I will send you flowers at work daily, signed by a man’s name.”

“Funny!” Tony let out a mocking laugh and removed his gloves.

He stilled her hands from gathering her things into the backpack and lightly pulled so she was facing him. The warmth his large hands created enveloping hers was almost painful. Unlike the warmth in his eyes, which was wrapping her heart in a fuzzy cocoon she’d rather not think about too much.

He brought their hands to his face, opening his a smidge, and blowing his hot breath inside. His gaze never left hers.

“Better?” he said after a few moments.

Ziva merely nodded, not trusting her voice, still staring into his eyes. He released her hands and picked up his discarded gloves, handing them to her while looking her up and down.

“You wear them, I’m hotter than you anyway,” he said with a wink and walked back to the crime scene.

Ziva narrowed her eyes at his retreating back. Maybe she should corner him in the men’s room later, ask him why he still has those pictures of her in a bikini if he thinks he’s so much hotter. That could get interesting.

 

 

 

 

 


	7. Blades of Destiny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 7: Write about someone learning to ice skate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why did I think this 30 day challenge was a good idea...Fun fact (or not): the first “ice” rinks were made of hog lard and salt. I’m not the only one who thinks that’s disgusting, they were short-lived (due to the smell).

“Well, well, well, little Miss Ziva David doesn’t know how to ice skate,” Tony said with a smug smile on his face while standing up from the bench.

“It’s not as if the Red Sea freezes over in the harsh Israeli winters,” Ziva deadpanned, tightening the laces on her skates.

Tony was itching to get on the ice, and she was taking too long to get ready. He looked down at her, then at her skates.

“Huh.”

She looked up at him, pausing her fingers momentarily. “What?”

Images of a blood soaked ice rink flashed through his mind. He closed his eyes for a second; he shouldn’t have fallen asleep watching a horror movie last night.

Tony tilted his head and shrugged casually. “I’m starting to rethink the combination of you and literal blades on your feet.”

Ziva wrinkled her nose at him and stood up. “It was your idea to go skating.”

She headed towards the rink entrance, with remarkable stability, and he followed. As was to be expected, she ignored his advice to let him get on the ice first, or to hold on to the wall. She was down on all fours before his skates even touched the ice.

He resisted the urge to laugh—or tell her he told her so—and held out a hand instead. After a failed attempt at getting up on her own, she conceded and accepted his help.

“Should I have gotten you a helmet?” Tony said with a teasing smile.

Ziva pursed her lips and tried to slap his arm but lost her balance once more. She grabbed onto his coat and left arm, and if he hadn’t expected it, she would’ve taken him down with her. He held her by the waist, until she was stable again.

She fiddled with the lapel of his coat. “Can you teach me?”

“That depends, are you going to do as I say?”

Her gaze snapped to his and he couldn’t contain a smirk. He took her grumble for an affirmation and told her to relax, get a feel for the ice, while he skated backwards pulling her with him.

Balance and flexibility had always been Ziva’s strengths, and half an hour later you couldn’t tell she had never set foot on an ice rink before. Which is why it was rather suspicious that she kept grabbing his arms, or hands, or accidentally slamming into him.

The twinkle in her eye and the obviously fake apologies rolling from her tongue every time, made his knees weak. They should definitely do this more often, he clearly needed to strengthen his leg muscles. And judging by the way his pulse was racing looking into her eyes, he really needed the cardio workout, as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to all who are still reading and reviewing.


	8. Hot Chocolate and Whipped Cream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 8: Write about a hot beverage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early season Tony and Ziva. I can’t believe we’re only at day 8...

They sat down in a booth with a view on the parking lot. After hours of driving in rain and sleet, on icy roads, they were both exhausted. Tony from cussing and telling Ziva to be more careful while gripping the edge of his seat, and checking his seatbelt worked properly every ten minutes; Ziva from listening to Tony complain, and trying not to end up in a ditch or wrapping the car around a tree.

When the waitress brought their order—one black coffee, one hot chocolate with marshmallows and whipped cream—Ziva rolled her eyes at his choice of beverage, and took a sip from her coffee, warming her hands around the cup.

“Do your taste buds even work?” she asked sweetly.

He made a face and nodded at her black coffee. “Do yours?”

Ziva tapped her fingers on her cup. The only reason she was drinking black coffee right now was to stay awake. Regardless of Gibbs’ taste in drinks, she still preferred tea, but sometimes you needed something stronger.

That whipped cream looked good, though.

“Stop eyeing my hot chocolate and marshmallows,” Tony said.

“Marshmallows?” She wrinkled her nose for good measure.

“Wait, you’ve never had hot chocolate with marshmallows, have you?” he said in disbelief.

Ziva shook her head and took a big gulp of coffee. The warmth and caffeine were welcome, the taste…not so much.

“You don’t know what you’re missing,” Tony said, then took a big gulp of his own, smacking his lips afterwards.

“Type 2 diabetes?” Ziva deadpanned.

Tony mock-laughed, glared, then went to the men’s room. They really needed to find a way to be cooped up in a small space for hours without biting each other’s heads off.

Her gaze drifted from the door to the men’s room, to the hot chocolate at the other side of the table. She licked her lips as her mouth watered. It looked so tempting.

Ziva glanced in the direction of the men’s room, there was enough time for a quick sip. Just a taste. To wash away the coffee.

She grabbed his cup, held it up to her nose and the rich aroma, with a hint of cinnamon, made her eyelids flutter shut. It reminded her of the hot chocolate her grandmother used to make for her and Tali when they were little kids. Minus the marshmallows.

The jangling of cutlery coming from the counter broke her reverie, and she eyed the door once more, then took a swig from Tony’s cup. The smooth savory liquid running down her throat instantly calmed her. Maybe hot chocolate could help her through hours of Tony quoting movies.

Ziva took another sip from the creamy decadent drink before replacing the cup the way he had left it. And not a second too soon.

She licked her lips discreetly and smiled at Tony walking up to the table. He squinted at her, brows wrinkled. Perhaps she shouldn’t have smiled, not after the way they had been snapping at each other for the past hour.

Tony sat down, one corner of his mouth twitching upwards. He grabbed his cup without a comment and took a sip, meeting her gaze.

“No longer worried about diabetes?” he asked smugly.

Ziva tilted her head slightly, her eyes flicking from his to the cup and back.

He reached over to the napkin dispenser and handed her a napkin grinning broadly. “You have whipped cream on your nose.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who’s been reading, liking, letting me know they like this challenge. I really appreciate it.


	9. Flickering Flames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 9: Write about a fireplace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Seriously...a fireplace ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

He was a two-hour drive from D.C., probably double that given the weather and road conditions, but that didn’t stop Tony from jumping in his car at 10 PM, unable to contact his coworkers due to a blackout back home. Not that he generally worried about them much when he was out of town. This time was different, though.

Two hours ago Ziva had hung up on him abruptly when they were about to raid a drug warehouse. He’d started calling and texting her half an hour ago. When he got no response he tried Gibbs. Then the rest of the team. Seeing the news report about the blackout eased his mind initially. Until he started thinking of all the ways that drug bust could’ve gone horribly wrong if the power had cut out at the wrong time.

So instead of spending another night at the convention hotel, he raced home as safely as possible—if any of them were in the hospital, he’d be completely useless if he ended up sharing a room with them because he crashed his car.

Tony parked in front of Ziva’s apartment building, grateful for the single open parking space left at this time of night. Taking a deep calming breath—she would be fine, of course she would be—he turned the key and opened the door.

He breathed out a laugh at the barrel of the gun pointing in his direction, before it was quickly lowered. Ziva was sitting on the ground, leaning against the couch, a book in her lap. The flickering light coming from the fireplace illuminated her face in a warm glow.

She walked over to him with a frown on her face. “I didn’t expect you back until tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” he sighed and closed the door behind him, dropping his bag next to it. “I may have panicked a bit when I couldn’t reach…anyone after the drug bust.”

Ziva didn’t like it when people thought she couldn’t handle a situation. But this time, she could chew him out all she wanted for being overprotective, as long as he got to fall asleep with her safely in his arms.

Her gaze drifted down his body, as if to make sure he was really there. And yeah, he probably looked a bit rumpled; he had practically fled the hotel room as if the devil was chasing him. She met his eyes as her hands grabbed his scarf.

“Everyone is okay,” she said softly.

And then she smiled that soft little smile he loved so much, and tugged at his scarf, pulling his face towards her. He had been gone for less than two days, but he kissed her as if it had been two years.

When they broke apart, he shrugged out of his coat and took off his shoes while watching her throw more pillows and an extra blanket on the floor in front of the fireplace.

Taking in the candles, the glass of wine, the crackling coming from the fireplace, he sat down next to her and said, “This is _almost_ romantic.”

Ziva raised an eyebrow, and he nodded towards the gun lying next to the wine glass.

“Blackouts tend to bring out the worst in people,” she said casually.

He watched the shadows of the flames dance over her face and light up her eyes. They should light the fireplace more often, he thought, and kissed her neck lightly.

“Do they now?” he said and kissed her temple as she stared into the fire.

“Perhaps it is the lack of distraction television and the internet usually brings.”

And he knew she was goading him now. Obvious in the way the corners of her eyes crinkled, the way she was trying not to smile, the way her face turned slightly towards him as he nuzzled her cheek and placed soft kisses on her jawline.

His sweater was suddenly too warm, the heat coming from the fireplace was only partially responsible. He removed the suffocating layer of fabric, dropping it on the couch behind him, and Ziva turned towards him with hooded eyes, dark with desire, a hand reaching out to run fingers through his hair.

He caressed her cheek. “They probably don’t have a fireplace to set a more…philanthropic mood,” he murmured.

Her throaty laugh stoked the fire within him, and he went willingly when she caressed his lips with hers while pulling him down on top of her.

And when he showed her his philanthropic side, the sound of the popping and snapping fire in the background, he concluded a fireplace was more interesting than any of his movies.


	10. Beneath The Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 10: Write about a frozen lake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I wrote too much fluff yesterday (worked on the fake dating follow-up as well). This was basically a horror story in my head, but I toned it down significantly and kept it vague so I wouldn’t have to up the rating. I suppose this is Gen fic (?).

The full moon illuminating the frozen lake, surrounded by trees, did nothing to make the scene before him less eerie. Tony shifted from foot to foot, and pulled up the collar of his NCIS issued vest, wishing he’d layered up a bit more. He glanced down, then clenched his jaw and looked towards the thin clearing in the trees.

What the hell was keeping Ziva and McGee?

The deafening silence was broken by the hoot of an owl. Tony held his breath as his right hand shot to his gun on instinct. He let out an annoyed sigh, realizing it was just a bird, and shook his arms loose in an effort to relax.

There was nothing calm about the stillness surrounding him. He pursed his lips in an effort to not start whistling. He’d never liked it when things were quiet, but this silence would freak even Gibbs out.

A simple breeze, rustling through the trees, would help put his mind at ease.

Tony stared at the ice below his feet again. He’d seen a lot of weird and creepy things during his years in law enforcement, but this one was definitely in the top five.

He and Ziva had driven up to the log cabin two hours ago, following a lead on a missing lieutenant. His gaze drifted to his left, then his right, and he blinked rapidly. They had found more than they bargained for, that was for sure.

They were out in the boondocks and by the time the rest of team got here with the gear, darkness had fallen. He jammed his hands in his armpits and wished they’d gone home and returned to the crime scene in the morning. He had a bad feeling about this.

The dead lieutenant staring up at him from below the icy barrier wasn’t what made him long for the comfort of his couch and a distracting movie, though. The four other dead people, ten deer, three wolves, and random body parts and indefinable shapes, however, made the level of creepiness spike to unknown heights.

Not usually squeamish around corpses, the fear on their faces below the ice made his stomach clench uncharacteristically. Undoubtedly, Ducky would come up with some logical explanation. Probably something along the lines of slack muscles and water freezing and whatnot.

His gaze drifted to one of the deer. He wondered if the same Ducky logic would apply to its expression. He narrowed his eyes, something felt off.

From the corner of his eye he picked up a shadow moving below the ice. He blinked slowly then looked up to check for clouds; surely it was just a trick of the eye, a cloud moving in front of the moon up above casting a shadow down below.

Nope, not a cloud in the night sky.

The hair at the back of his neck stood on end and his gaze drifted down again. And that’s when he saw it, more distinctly this time; a dark shape, roughly ten feet long, moving underneath the ice.

He stood momentarily frozen. It had to be a fish, right? The size was probably skewed, something about light and water and refraction or something. Right?

But then the shadow reappeared on his right and bumped into the wolf corpse partially stuck to the ice. The dead animal moved and tore apart, and Tony’s eyes went wide.

With a yelp he ran and skidded the fifteen feet of ice separating him from the shore. Naturally, Ziva and McGee chose this exact moment to emerge from the tree line, arms loaded with gear. He stumbled onto shore, his pulse racing, then bent over and placed his hands on his knees trying to catch his breath.

Ziva looked at him, eyebrows crinkled. “What’s wrong with you? You look like you’ve seen ghost.”

He stood up straight, still gasping for air, eyes fixed on the frozen lake. “There…was something…something moved,” he finally got out, pointing in the direction where he had seen the shadow.

Ziva’s hand went to her gun as she peered out over the empty expanse in front of them. “I do not see anything. Did it take off into the woods?” she asked with a furtive glance.

McGee started laughing sardonically and Tony glared at him.

“Come on, Tony, it was probably just a shadow from a bird, or a cloud, or something,” McGee said.

“ _Or something_ sounds right,” Tony bit back. “It was underneath the ice, McSkeptical, about ten feet long. Black and shimmery.”

He looked at the ice again. “It tore off a piece of one of the wolves,” he said in a strained voice.

Ziva fixed her gaze on him again, hand still on the gun at her hip. She narrowed her eyes at him. Unlike the Probie, she had seen the dead bodies under the ice. And suddenly he flashed back to an empty ship in the middle of nowhere, and Ziva saying she kept an open mind to the unknown.

At least someone believed him.

“It was a fish,” McGee said with a sneer. “It probably looked bigger than it was because of limited visibility.”

Tony clenched his jaw and wondered what Gibbs would have to say when he got here.

Ziva dropped the bag she was still holding, and moved towards the edge of the lake. Tony sprang forward, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her back.

She glared at him. “If there is something messing with our crime scene, we need to do something about it,” she said.

Evidently she wasn’t going to let an unknown creature of the deep stop her from doing her job. He refused to let go of her arm just yet, weighing the pros and cons of taking a closer look.

A loud thud pierced the quiet surrounding them. It was quickly followed by the sound of ice creaking and breaking about fifteen feet ahead.

Tony’s eyes went wide and his pulse started racing again as he grabbed for his gun. He glanced at Ziva, now aiming her own gun at the vast expanse of ice, then at McGee, eyes wide and mouth agape.

“It’s been nice knowing you, Probie,” Tony said tersely, focusing his attention on where the ice was still snapping and squeaking.

McGee looked at him after having reached for his own gun, fear and confusion written all over his face.

“The virgin always dies in a horror flick,” Tony said.

McGee’s face twisted in anger. “I’m not a-“

Another loud thud and shards of ice sprayed into the sky.

All three of them took a few steps back and trained their guns at the deep cracks that had appeared in the ice. Somewhere in the back of his mind Tony hoped this particular scenario wasn’t going to end up in John Carpenter movie.

Seconds later the sound of ice shattering was followed by a dark creature bursting from the lake with an ear-shattering roar. They emptied their guns, leaving the black and gold scaly beast flopping on the icy surface until it finally stilled, the ice surrounding it turning a dark crimson.

Tony vaguely registered footsteps approaching rapidly. The head slap, however, registered clearly.

“You’re not supposed to add new bodies to a crime scene,” Gibbs said.


	11. Rudolph

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 11: Write about a frostbite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tiva, a car crash, a cabin, some kissing, not much else, except for too many prompts

“Aren’t you cold?” Tony watched her shiver while looking out the fogged up window.

“The thought of you keeps me warm,” she said in a flat voice.

“You have frostbite.” He nodded at her hands. “But, I’m flattered,” he said with a lewd grin.

Ziva looked over her shoulder with a coy smile. “Don’t be, I was thinking about beating you up for stranding us here.”

“That was hardly my fault, that deer came out of nowhere.”

She smirked. “You killed Rudolph, two days before Christmas. Abby is going to kill you.”

Tony opened his mouth to protest, but really, what was there to say. Hitting that deer had totaled their car, in an area with no cellphone reception, forcing them to trek half an hour through the snow to the abandoned cabin they had seen earlier.

He got up from the rickety bed he had plopped down on when first entering, and started rummaging through cabinets. Ziva had already gone through them, coming up with practical items, like a knife—not that she needed more of those—stale crackers and cans of beans—was that obligatory cabin food? As usual, she failed to look for more entertaining stuff. Who knew how long they would be stuck here.

Tony couldn’t believe his luck when he opened the second cabinet. He took out the board game and set it on table. Ziva seemed lost in thought, staring at the snow that had begun to fall outside.

“Ziva! I have a great idea to keep us busy,” he said eagerly.

“I am not having sex with you,” she deadpanned.

Not quite the reaction he had expected. And, to be honest, he was slightly disappointed with himself for not thinking of that particular pastime.

“Rummikub,” he said.

She finally turned around and wrinkled her nose. “I hate that game.”

“I know,” he said with glee.  He had mocked her for it repeatedly in the past. Told her she was an embarrassment to her people.

He walked over and took her hand, intent on guiding her towards the table and away from the single pane window that was barely keeping the warmth in.

He frowned at the coldness of her hand and took the other one as well. Equally cold. “Your hands are still freezing, maybe you should put your gloves back on” he said.

She removed her hands from his and looked down at them with a quizzical expression. “They are warm.”

“No, they’re not,” he countered. He stared at the pale skin then took one of her hands again and ran his thumb over the back of it. “Definitely not warm. That really is frostbite, Ziva. Put your gloves on.”

She rolled her eyes but did as he told, then sat down at the table. Other than a few candles there was nothing in the cabin for her to warm her hands to. Well, there was, but she already made it clear that wasn’t in the cards.

“New rule,” he said sitting down across from her. “Every time you mess up in the game, you have to kiss me.”

Her head snapped up. “But I’m shit at this game.”

“I know,” he said with his trademark smile. “It’ll warm you up.”

Ziva huffed and said, “My lips aren’t frostbitten.”

“I know, but the heat will trickle through your body.” He scuffed his chair closer to the table and leaned forward.

“You’re full of yourself,” she said, and sat up straighter.

Despite her objections Ziva took fourteen tiles. He smiled and did the same.

Tony watched her occasionally fumble with a tile. At first he thought the gloves were messing up her dexterity. Then he remembered that had never been a problem before.

She accidentally dropped another tile and frustration was written all over her face.

“Are you okay, butterfingers?”

She met his gaze and rubbed her forehead. “Fine.”

“No headache?” The car crash had been pretty bad. If she had a concussion he needed to know about it.

“No.” She frowned, and shook her head a little. “Yes, but I sometimes get headaches from being in the cold.”

Tony nodded. Perhaps it was just the frostbite making her fingers numb.

“Time’s up,” he said and grinned broadly. “You messed up.”

She frowned again, then sighed and leaned over the table. Their eyes met, and his worry for her health faded to the back of his mind as she closed the distance and…kissed his forehead.

He glared at her. “New rule; from now on-“

“You cannot change the rules in the middle of a game, Tony,” she said with a smirk.

“Fine,” he muttered and they continued playing.

“How long do you think it’ll be before someone finds us,” he asked fifteen minutes, and a kiss on each cheek, later.

“Definitely before Christmas eve,” Ziva said with certainty.

Tony stared at her, confused. “Because…Abby won’t want to celebrate Christmas without us and she’ll make Gibbs call in the Marines?”

“No, because Santa needs to deliver presents and he will want revenge first.”

He mock-laughed at her smugness, then looked at the tiles. “You messed up again.”

Ziva sighed and slid her chair next to his. He looked her up and down, then raised an eyebrow.

“What? I’m tired of leaning over the table.”

“So you’re intending to mess up a lot more,” he said and grinned.

“You know I am not good at this game.”

“I do,” he admitted, “which is why I was surprised you agreed to the new rule so easily.”

She looked at him sweetly. “And how is that working out for you?”

He really had to think things through better when he tried to play her. “Not as expected. Which is par for the course with you.”

She frowned, and he was about to explain the idiom when she placed her gloved hand on his cheek and her lips on his.

It was short, too short, and he couldn’t stop his gaze from drifting to her mouth for a split second.

“You’re going to lose anyway,” he said looking into her eyes, and he shrugged a little. “May as well pay up now.”

She made a hmm sound and narrowed her eyes. Tony hoped she was considering taking him up on his offer, not considering beating him up as she mentioned earlier. Surely the frostbite would make that just as painful for her as it would be for him.

He didn’t have to wait long for her answer. She pecked him on the lips and said, “This a lot more enjoyable than Rummikub.”

Tony smiled and kissed her back slowly. His hand fisted in her hair when she deepened the kiss, while his other drifted to her knee.

The door flew open with a bang and they broke apart, hands flying to their guns. A heavy set man with a beard as white as the snow outside stood in the door opening.

“I saw the deer, and the car, I assume that was you people,” the man said with a booming voice as snow flurried inside around his bright red coat.

Tony’s mind was still hung up on Ziva’s lips as he took in the stranger before them.

“Santa?” he mumbled, and Ziva elbowed him in the ribs.


	12. The Not-So Abominable Snowman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 12: Write about a snowman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Tony runs into Ziva’s 80-year-old upstairs neighbor in the hallway before dinner. Friendship or Tiva, totally up to you.

Ziva was sipping a hot cup of tea by the bay window, watching white flakes fall down slowly, before adding another layer to the white blanket outside. She smiled when her gaze drifted to the snowman the kids next door had built on the front lawn. It was right in front of her window. She had followed the kids’ progress all afternoon, and offered them some hot chocolate after a disagreement had turned into a snowball fight. When they were nearly finished, she handed them a leftover carrot as a finishing touch.

Her stomach growled, and she checked her watch. Tony was running late. He hadn’t texted her, so she assumed he was still coming over for dinner. She glanced towards the kitchen, relieved she had decided on spaghetti Bolognese; the sauce was ready, all that needed to be done was reheat it and cook some pasta.

Turning her attention on the snowman again, she almost spilled her tea as something, or rather someone, fell on top of it from above. Her eyes went wide, and she quickly put down the cup of tea and raced outside on socked feet.

She stepped into the front yard, up to her ankles in snow, just when the person was scrambling to sit upright.

“Tony?” Her mind blanked temporarily as her heart thumped in her chest.

 She looked up, saw Christmas lights that hadn’t been there two hours earlier, and a shocked Mrs. Sweeny staring down.

“What are you doing putting up Christmas lights now?”

It sounded harsher then she had intended; adrenaline was still racing through her veins from when she realized it was Tony who had plummeted to the ground. He may occasionally pretend to be a special snowflake, but he definitely didn’t fall from the sky like one.

“I’m fine, by the way,” he deadpanned. “I killed the snowman, though,” he said with a grimace, holding up the carrot.

Ziva closed her eyes for a second and breathed out a laugh. She was about to step closer and help him up when a sound from above drew her attention.

A pack of snow slid down the roof and covered Tony almost completely. She bit her bottom lip, and made a mental note to give him an extra serving of spaghetti, to ease the future blow to his ego when she told McGee about this.

Tony wiped some snow from his face, and said, “Good news, you have a snowman again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading, reviewing and the likes. I probably would've quit this challenge a week ago if it wasn't for you.


	13. Tracking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 13: Write about a forest in winter.

The first thing he noticed after regaining consciousness was the pounding in his head. The second was the cold wet numbness on the left side of his face. He struggled to get on all fours, relieved he was still holding his gun.

Standing up slowly, he wiped a hand over the left side of his face, it came back a mixture of blood and snow. He gripped the gun tighter and looked around, hoping to find any sign of Ziva. He appeared to be all alone, not a sound to be heard.

Tony moved around the house to where he had last seen Ziva, and noticed a trail of blood leading into the woods. They had been having ‘anything you can do i can do better’ arguments all day. On the way over to the suspect’s house, she had claimed to be a better tracker. He had conceded, but right now, he hoped that what limited tracking skills he had would lead him to his partner.

His chest tightened, that had better not be her blood; he had no idea how long he’d been unconscious. He grabbed his phone and called for backup and an ambulance.

Tony jogged closer to the tree line, hoping to catch a glimpse of something. Someone. Preferably his partner. Other than the faint rustling of tree branches in the wind, there was no movement.

He followed the blood trail and footsteps into the woods, gun lowered. The constant crackling and groaning of branches covered with snow kept him more on edge than he liked. He really wasn’t an outdoors type of guy, he didn’t know what sounds to look out for.

He did know what a bullet hole looked like, though, and that tree right in front of him had definitely fallen victim to someone.

He clenched his jaw, the pain in his head all but forgotten, and hurried to what looked like a disturbance in the shrubs up ahead. The snow surrounding the area had been flattened, as if someone had been on the ground, fighting, blood streaks and tiny blood pools marred the white snow.

His breathing became more rapid as he noticed two blood trails leading away from the scene. He sped off, trying hard not to trip and fall over rocks and branches and shrubs that were slowing down his momentum. He was a sprinter, faster than Ziva—yes, he’d won that argument—but only on flat terrain. He had never liked the woods, at the moment, he downright hated them.

The trail became harder to follow once it lead into thicker underbrush. There was less snow here and the blood spatter didn’t stand out as well on the dark twigs and evergreen leaves. The urge to yell her name was overwhelming, but he knew that could get them both into trouble.

And then, finally, he heard a groan. He was close, and slowed his pace, training his ears to pick up any sound, scanning the area for any suspicious movements.

Another groan, and he quickly moved to his right, almost tripping over their suspect. He was bleeding heavily, a knife in his chest. Tony clenched his jaw and breathed in deeply through his nose, trying to remain calm. The man quietly pleaded for help, and Tony was suddenly very aware of the pounding in his head again as blood coursed through his veins, because if the suspect was here, bleeding, where the hell was Ziva.

After padding down the injured man for weapons, Tony cuffed his hands behind his back quickly.

“Where’s my partner,” Tony said baring his teeth.

The barely controlled anger in his voice made the suspect whimper and shake his head lightly.

Tony looked around with jerky movements. He yelled her name, and hoped she’d pop up behind him with a cheeky grin, the way she did sometimes.

He was greeted with dead silence.

He looked down at the suspect again, considered kicking him, hoping for an answer and some minor revenge, but knew that would be futile; the man looked like he was about to lose consciousness. What he needed now, was a tracker. Like Ziva.

His stomach clenched and he tried to clear his head. Looking around the area, he saw a gun to his right, about six feet from the suspect. It was Ziva’s. He called for her again, she couldn’t be that far.

Trying to make sense of the blood trail coming from the suspect, he headed into some bushes on his left. Her boots entered his line of vision first and he pushed through as fast as he could, dropping to his knees next to her still body.

So much blood. Ziva’s blood.

Tony swallowed down the sour taste in his mouth, and reached out a shaky hand to her neck. When his fingertips registered a steady heartbeat, he sighed, but realized they weren’t out of the woods yet.

He quickly assessed her injuries as best he could. The leg wound looked like a through and through that had missed the main artery. The injury to her side was more difficult to evaluate. He put pressure on the wound, and tried not to think about what damage the bullet could have done on the inside.

When his gazed drifted up her body while fumbling for his phone, the image of Kate lying dead on the roof, popped into his head. There was so much blood pooled beneath Ziva’s head, he had initially thought she had been shot there. Upon closer inspection, the blood appeared to be coming from where her head had come into contact with a rock.

He knew head wounds tended to look worse than they were, but this was an image he’d likely never forget. Something he suspected would haunt him in nightmares to come.

Tony checked his cell phone for a signal, and thanked every deity he had ever heard of when he saw three bars. He called for another ambulance, then notified Gibbs.

Ziva’s eyelids moved faintly, and he quickly pocketed his phone, so he could stroke her cheek with his free hand. His voice guided her into consciousness, and when she finally opened her eyes she was clearly disoriented, and tried to get up.

“No, no, no, stay down. You took out the bad guy and help is on the way. Don’t move, okay?”

Tony was relieved when her eyes finally focused on his.

Sirens could be heard in the distance, and a few birds that had been silent up until then, joined the sound that was music to his ears. Tony took that as a sign that everything was going to be all right, and smiled at her.

Ziva slowly reached up to touch the left side of his face, and said in a strangled voice, “You are hurt.”

Tony blinked rapidly and clenched his jaw. “Yeah, well, you win this round, you can stop bleeding now.”

The corner of her mouth twitched upwards, and he turned his head to kiss the palm of her hand, closing his eyes briefly as footsteps approached in the distance.


	14. Smoked Santa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 14: Write about a chimney.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These stories really are all over the place. Today, the three musketeers and humor.

All three of them had doubtful looks on their faces, as they stood staring up at the dead petty officer—dressed as Santa—slumped into the chimney.

“So…who goes up there?” McGee asked hesitantly.

It was hard to tell with McGee, but Tony thought he looked even paler than usual asking that question. The Probie gave him a wary glance and Tony merely grinned at him. And, oh look, he turned paler than the snow covering the roof.

As entertaining as torturing McGee was, Tony knew sending him up on a roof, let alone a snow-covered one, was a recipe for disaster. So after chuckling he said, “Don’t worry, McQueasy, Ziva’s on roof-scaling duty.”

He turned to her just in time to see her shrug nonchalantly, grab her kit and walk towards the ladder. He frowned, not that he’d expected Ziva to give him a hard time about his decision, but he suddenly worried about how safe it was up there. Even for a light-footed ninja like her.

“Shouldn’t you wait for the crane?” He said.

Her scoff wasn’t very reassuring, and when she crawled onto the sloped roof and snow fell down to the ground below with a slight thud, McGee wasn’t the only one feeling queasy. Tony suddenly had visions of her falling down and breaking her neck.

Ziva carefully walked to where the body of the petty officer was slumped over the chimney. The way she was leaning this way and that way to take pictures and look for evidence, had both McGee and him cringing with wide eyes.

“That height working crane thingy should be here any minute, Ziva,” Tony yelled.

Ziva met his eyes with a smirk, and that just made his hackles rise. This was hardly the time to show off.

“He’s holding an almost empty bottle of vodka,” she yelled back.

She shifted and held onto the chimney to move past the body to the other side. Tony watched her snap more pictures and lean over to look into the chimney. His stomach clenched, why hadn’t he stopped her from going up there.

“His Santa hat appears to be stuck inside the chimney. I can’t tell very well from here, but his face appears to be covered in soot. Maybe if I get a better angle-”

“NO!” Tony yelled. “You don’t need to get a better angle, you need to come back down.”

Ziva stood up and casually leaned against the chimney with a raised eyebrow. There was a click of the camera and he looked at McGee sideways.

“What? Abby will think this is a great picture,” he said and shrugged.

Tony looked back up at Ziva on one side of the chimney, the dead petty officer wearing a Santa suit on the other, his head inside the chimney.

“It’s morbid,” he said focusing on McGee again.

“It’s Abby,” McGee said.

Tony tilted his head, the Probie had a point. From the corner of his eye he saw Ziva was on the move again.

“Hey, get your ass down here. Now,” he shouted as he walked up to the house.

“I am fine, Tony, I have cat-like agility,” she said.

“Yeah, well, you’ve already lost at least half of your nine lives.”

Ziva tried to cross back around the chimney to where her kit was. She held on to the top of the chimney, when a brick came loose and she lost her balance and fell on her back.

Tony’s eyes went wide and he lurched forward on instinct. As Ziva slid down the roof, all the snow ahead of her went over the edge first, covering Tony. The snow had barely registered as his pulse raced, and when she failed to hold onto the icy gutter, he still had his arms open, ready to catch her, now standing in three feet of snow. Her momentum, and his inability to move in the snow, made him fall back.

Ziva looked down at their current position, and said with a grin, “My knight in snowy armor.”

Tony’s gaze drifted from her eyes to her mouth, and back. “You’re on top of me…again,” he said in a low voice, a small smile on his lips.

Another click of the camera, and Tony noticed McGee standing next to them with a grin.

“Don’t worry, guys, I got everything on video.”

Ziva dropped her forehead on Tony’s shoulder with a groan, while he grabbed a handful of snow and threw it in McGee’s general direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the continued support, it means a lot to me.


	15. Slip Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More three musketeers, more humor, actual Tiva.
> 
> Day 15: write about winter shoes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: And I thought the fireplace prompt was difficult...but, I made it halfway through the 30 day challenge.

Tony walked to the trunk of the car, where McGee was grabbing his backpack, and shook his leg to kick snow off his shoe.

“If these shoes are ruined, I’m sending the bill to accounting.” He wiggled his toes inside his shoes. “And if my feet fall off from the cold, I’m suing.”

“Enough with the shoes,” McGee said annoyed. “You’ve been complaining for half an hour, why are you even wearing fancy Italian shoes to a crime scene in the dead of winter?”

“I told you, my winter shoes were ruined at the previous crime scene,” he looked at McGee pointedly and raised his voice, “and I haven’t had the time to buy a new pair.”

McGee rolled his eyes and groaned before walking off in the direction of the police tape. Tony pursed his lips, glared, and turned to grab his backpack from the back of the car.

Out of nowhere, a pair of brand new winter shoes dangled in front of his face. He turned and met Ziva’s smiling face.

“I thought these might come in handy,” she said, and he took the shoes from her.

He raised his eyebrows and nodded his approval, turning them around in his hands. Thick soles with a good profile, waterproof, nice stitching…they looked expensive.

“Nice, and you got my size right.”

Ziva stepped into his personal space and looked up at him with a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Of course I got your size right,” she said.

He smiled down at her. “When did you-“

“Ordered them online, express delivery.”

McGee walked over to them, and waived at Ziva.

“Hey, did you drive up here with Gibbs?” he asked. Ziva nodded towards the house. “Great, I forgot my phone in the car,” he said and walked around them to the passenger door.

Tony focused his attention on Ziva again, and placed his left hand on her waist where it would be hidden from view by the car.

“What would I do without you,” he murmured as he lowered his head slightly.

“You would probably be at the hospital, waiting for a doctor to amputate your black dying frostbitten feet,” she said tilting her chin upwards, eyes locking with his.

Tony chuckled, “I did not need that visual, but thanks for the shoes.” He lowered his head to steal a kiss.

The slamming of the car door made them jump three feet apart and look in the direction of the offending noise.

McGee looked at them with a blank expression. “What?”

“If you tell anyone-“ Tony said, realizing he and Ziva had slipped up.

“Tell anyone what? Everybody knows you’re together.”

Tony looked at Ziva in complete surprise. She tilted her head and frowned.

“What?” she said.

McGee shrugged. “We divided the office pool three months ago.” Then he made a face and added, ”Gibbs called it and won.”

Tony gaped at him, wondering what exactly that meant. “Three months ago?” he asked.

“We’ve only been together for two,” Ziva said sounding equally confused.

McGee’s eyes went wide, “Son of a-“


	16. Nippy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 16: write about someone being cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short one, because I decided to work on the Christmas sequel, as well (all I have written out so far are two mistletoe kisses...I mean, I guess that’s the most important part of a Christmas fic, but still, it needs more)

Ziva’s patience was wearing thin. Thinner than the almost see-through dress she was currently wearing. The FBI agent she was talking with kept staring her up and down. It wouldn’t bother her so much if it weren’t so cold outside the club, and if the man was actually capable of multitasking.

Tony had ogled her, plenty, at the start of the undercover joint operation, but it hadn’t stopped him from doing his job properly. Unlike this sorry excuse of an agent. You’d think he’d never seen a woman in a low cut dress before.

“So…where did you hide your gun, again?” the agent asked, not for the first time, while staring at her chest.

Ziva felt her blood boil. Unfortunately, it did nothing to warm her up and she shivered instead.

“Agent David doesn’t need a gun, she once killed a guy with a credit card.”

Tony’s voice coming from behind her calmed her down just enough to no longer want to get a bit warmer by punching the FBI agent. He stepped up next to her, close enough to feel his warmth on her right side. Their gazes met, and the twinkle in his eye told her he was well aware of how done she was with this conversation.

Tony removed his coat and said to the Fed, “And if you don’t stop asking stupid questions and ogling her, she’s going to kill you with your pencil.”

He draped his coat over her shoulders, while staring the agent down. The man looked flustered, gaze flicking from Tony to her. She played along with her partner and put on a dangerous smirk after looking at the pencil pointedly.

“I, um, I guess…I have everything I need…for now,” he said and scurried off towards the rest of the FBI.

Ziva smiled up at Tony, “Thank you.”

“Well, you were cold, and I know you like to fight to warm up. Vance wouldn’t like all the extra paperwork that would entail.”

She bumped him with her shoulder. “I feel a lot warmer already thanks to your coat.”

“You still look a bit nippy,” he said with a grin.

Ziva frowned, she hadn’t shivered, had she?

“I’m so glad a bra didn’t go with that dress,” he said, and she punched him in the arm.

“But, to prove I’m not quite as bad as the Feds over there,” he said with a nod in the direction of the agents who were still ogling her legs, “I brought you a change of clothes.”


	17. It Started With a Scarf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 17: Write about a scarf. Tiva

It started innocently enough that morning. Tony and Ziva walked into the bullpen from opposite directions, crossing each other in front of their desks. And then Ziva removed her scarf and playfully slapped Tony on the butt.

He turned around with a raised eyebrow and one corner of his mouth turned upwards. “You break it you buy it.”

Ziva laughed and went to work, after giving him a mischievous grin.

Three hours later, Gibbs sent them out to talk to the missing petty officer’s parents. On their way to the elevator, Tony wrapped his scarf around his neck with more gusto than necessary, swiping Ziva’s curls in her face in the process. She narrowed her eyes at his grin. He stopped grinning as soon as she took the car keys from him.

They finished the interview around noon, and Tony dropped Ziva off at a book store, while he met up with McGee for lunch. When he walked into the bullpen an hour later, Ziva was at her desk, scarf wrapped warmly around her neck. He kept his eyes on her as he walked over to his desk and sat down.

“Let me guess,” he said and folded his hands in front of his lips. “The 21-year-old sales clerk tried to convince you to buy 50 Shades of Grey by giving you a hickey?”

Ziva scrunched up her nose. “That is a horrible book,” she said dismissively.

Tony’s eyebrows shot towards the skylight above. “You’ve read it,” he said gleefully.

“Only the first chapter, it was horrible.”

“Oh,” he said disappointedly. “You didn’t even get to the interesting stuff.”

Ziva quirked an eyebrow at him, and he swallowed hard. “Or so I’ve heard,” he said.

She chuckled and loosened her scarf, leaving it draped loosely around her neck.

Shortly after, Ziva walked over to his desk while he was on his cell phone to double check information. She leaned in close and the ends of her scarf ended up on his desk. He ended the call and as she explained her concerns, he grabbed one end of the scarf and cleaned his cell phone screen with it.

Ziva glared at him and whisked the scarf out of his hand, lightly slapped him in the face with it, and threatened to make 50 Shades of Grey look like child’s play if he didn’t pay attention.

Paying attention just got a lot harder.

A few hours and leads later, they bundled up against the cold again and went to question a possible suspect. When the suspect was less than forthcoming, Ziva changed tactics and unwrapped her scarf before unbuttoning the top buttons of her coat. There wasn’t much to see other than her sweater, but the suggestive act and her subsequent flirting delivered all the information they needed.

On the way to the car, after Tony grumbled that she didn’t play fair, she slapped him on the butt again with her scarf. Only this time, he grabbed the other end, and pulled her towards him.

“Careful. Don’t want to damage my five.”

She narrowed her eyes and looked him up and down. “Last time I checked it was a three.”

“Last time you checked was a long time ago,” he said as he looked down at her and looped the scarf around her neck, holding on to both ends.

“No it wasn’t,” she said with a glint in her eye. “I simply can’t tell if it’s still a five if you’re wearing pants.

Tony opened his mouth, then closed it and smiled softly.

“You know,” he said and glanced at her neck. “If I gave you a hickey you’d need a bigger scarf to hide it.”

“Are you offering?” Ziva said as the corners of her eyes crinkled.

“That depends, are you accepting?” he asked and squinted slightly.

“Are you on the ground clutching your groin?” she countered and licked her lips.

“No,” Tony said frowning and tilted his head. Ziva simply raised her eyebrows and smiled.

“Oooh,” he said smiling, and pulled both ends of the scarf towards him until their lips met.


	18. Slippery Slope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 18: Write about someone slipping on the ice.

The thud his head made when it hit the icy pavement was nauseating. The fact that he didn't cuss, or grumble, or try to stand up, or even open his eyes, made her heart stop.

Ziva fell to her knees next to him, at least he was still breathing, and ran a hand through his hair saying his name. She dug out her cell phone, ready to call an ambulance when he groaned.

Cell phone forgotten, she urged him to open his eyes. When he finally did she exhaled quietly and briefly closed her eyes.

"What happened," Tony asked a bit dazed.

"You slipped," Ziva said, voice laced with relief. "I told you it was icy." She pursed her lips, and lightly punched his chest.

He looked confused, which worried her. "You hit your head pretty hard, you blacked out. We should have you checked out."

"I'm fine. A decade of Gibbs hitting me over the head has built up a callus."

She smiled despite herself.

"Still…you might have a concussion." She helped him stand up.

"See, this is why I married you, Ziva, when you're not threatening to kill me you actually care about me."

Her breath hitched and she could feel her heart thumping in her chest. She stared at him, frozen, like a deer caught in the headlights.

But then Tony guffawed and said, "The look on your face."

Her hands twitched when realization hit, and she crossed her arms. "That's not funny!"

He stood up straight and stopped laughing. "What isn't? Possible brain damage or the possibility of being married to me?"

She looked at him with what she hoped to be a blank expression. "Give me the car keys."

He looked at her doubtfully, then scoffed. "Because I played a prank on you?"

"No, because you hit your head and blacked out," she snapped. "Or was that part of the joke, as well?"

Tony shook his head sheepishly and handed over the keys.

Ziva turned sharply, ready to stalk off, completely forgetting how slippery the pavement was. If not for Tony's reflexes, she would've ended up on the ground. Once she had her footing again, he released her arm and looked at her apologetically.

"Truce?"

She wet her lips, and looked in the direction of the car. "Fine. But I'm still driving."

Tony's mouth curved upwards, and they carefully walked towards the car.

"Seriously, though, which would be worse; me having brain damage, or being married to me?"

Ziva's chest tightened at this slippery slope of questions, and she took a deep breath. "Shut up, Tony."


	19. A Special Snowflake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 19: Write about a snowflake.

It was just a tiny fleck, an intricately formed drop of water frozen somewhere high above, regardless, he couldn’t keep his eyes of the single snowflake in Ziva’s hair. Maybe it was the way the whiteness contrasted with her dark curls. Or how soft her hair looked and how intrusive the wet flake looked. Or maybe, he was simply imagining how cold the flake would feel compared to her thick mass of curls if he were to run his fingers through it.

Whatever the reason, he had been staring at it ever since it had lodged itself in his partner’s hair while waiting in line for coffee. It had made him stop grumbling about the insanity of going outside—in the cold—to get coffee, when they could’ve gotten some from the break room.

She had endured his whining good-naturedly, promised him a chocolate chip cookie, and brushed a few snowflakes off his shoulder. That’s when he had first spotted the snowflake in her hair.

When a gust of wind blew her hair in her face and she pushed it back, the tiny white speck of intrigue was gone, and he suddenly felt oddly disappointed.

Ziva turned to look at him. “You’ve been awfully quiet for the past few minutes.” She squinted, then said jokingly, “Was it the promise of a cookie?”

Tony met her gaze, and briefly wondered whether she really hadn’t noticed him staring at her all this time. He suppressed a chuckle; no, she knew. So he smiled, and said, “I don’t want to end up on Santa’s naughty list.”

The smile that put a twinkle in her eyes made him feel like a kid on Christmas morning.

And then, with another gust of wind, the snowfall picked up. The few random flakes that had been falling since they walked outside towards the coffee cart, were now multiplying.

Tony couldn’t help but grin as snowflakes sprinkled all over her hair. He reached for his phone and took three pictures; one where she was still blissfully unaware of what he was up to, staring in front of her with a soft smile; a second where she frowned at him, still smiling; and a third where she laughed, mouth wide and made a grab for his phone.

They were all keepers. They would help him through boring meetings and paperwork. And if he lay awake at night, they would soothe his worries and help him drift off to sleep.

“Should’ve worn my hat,” she said.

“I disagree,” he replied, and ran a hand through her hair, making her frown as one corner of her mouth curved upwards.

Reality felt so much better than his imagination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I’ve used a variation of that last phrase before…oh well.   
> Thank you, every single one of you, for your feedback.


	20. Full Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day20: Write about footsteps in the snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Tiva, just Tony, Ziva, a missing gunny and a full moon.

“Tony,” Ziva said in a hushed voice.

He turned towards her and she signaled him to come over. His eyes scanned the area, shoulders tense. When he stopped next to her she nodded towards the footsteps in the snow, leading into the trees ahead.

Ziva took the lead as they followed the footsteps in the light of the full moon, and approached the tree line slowly. They were out in the open, didn’t know if the tracks belonged to the gunny or someone with bad intentions. They’d have nowhere to hide if something went wrong. The sooner they spotted whoever they were tracking, the safer they would be.

When Ziva glanced down to check the track again, they were about 30 feet from the trees. She stopped dead in her tracks, Tony almost bumping into her. He frowned at her and looked around suspiciously, probably assuming she had seen something.

He was right, she had seen something, she wasn’t entirely sure what, though.

“The footsteps,” she said quietly scanning the area ahead.

“What the hell.”

He looked at her wide-eyed. Expectantly. As if she would know why the footprints they had been following suddenly disappeared.

From what she could tell from the snow, there appeared to have been some kind of a scuffle near the last set of footprints. The only prints leading away from the flattened snow, were paw prints leading straight into the forest.

The paw prints were larger than she had ever seen, but prints in the snow often had that effect. What disturbed her more than the size, was the complete lack of any other marks.

There were no tracks leading towards the scuffed area, other than the footprints. There were no other tracks leading away either, not even drag marks.

It was as if the gunny had vanished into thin air.

And where had that wolf come from? It hadn’t snowed recently, so no tracks would’ve been covered up.

“Ziva?”

His voice was quiet but tense, and Ziva looked up at him. He was staring into the woods. She squinted in the same direction, and when a low growl pierced the quiet night sky, they both raised their guns.

“Maybe we should call animal control, or something,” Tony said.

“It could take hours for them to get here.” Did a shadow move low between those two trees? “What if our gunny is in there, injured,” she said.

A pair of eyes suddenly lit up in the moonlight, and she felt her pulse race. A sharp inhale told her Tony had seen them too.

Ziva resumed walking, Tony by her side, guns trained on where they had seen the eyes. If the wolf had attacked the gunny, they needed to know if he was there and conscious.

“NCIS!” she called out, eyes and ears straining to pick up any movement.

“Gunny! Give us a sign if you can!” Tony yelled. “We don’t want to mistake you for a wolf and accidentally shoot you!”

Ziva scoffed quietly, and stopped walking when the wolf appeared to approach them. She could feel the tension radiating off of Tony’s body, and felt her own muscles tense. They were trained to deal with people, not wild animals.

The wolf came up to the edge of the tree line, but remained half hidden by the long shadows of the trees behind it. With less than 20 feet of snow between them, the hair on Ziva’s neck stood on end.

The animal looked from her to Tony and flicked its tongue a few times, before sitting down on its haunches and staring at them, head low.

“What’s it doing?” Tony said quietly.

Ziva shrugged and shook her head in frustration. How was she supposed to know? She’d only seen a wolf once, at a zoo. And the one sitting in front of them seemed…off. Maybe it was the shadows and the eerie glow of the moonlight on its matted fur.

“Should we call for the gunny again?” she said, trying to ignore her churning gut.

“Yeah, sure, let’s start yelling in front of a wild animal, that can’t possibly go wrong,” he hissed.

“We have guns, Tony,” she hissed back.

“What if we miss?”

Ziva resisted the urge to glare at him. “He can’t attack us both at the same time. I will not miss up close when he’s on top of you.”

Tony’s head snapped in her direction for a second, before focusing on the wild animal again.

“Why would he attack me first?”

“More meat,” she replied and smirked.

“Are you seriously calling me fat _now_?”

She clenched her jaw. “I said more meat, not more fat.”

He scoffed. “I don’t think wolves go for the biggest prey, anyway.”

“We will see,” she said, then yelled, “Gunny! Show yourself!”

Tony swore at her, but didn’t lose his focus.

And then her eyes went wide and her breath hitched, as the wolf slowly walked out of the shadows, stood on its hind legs, and it became abundantly clear it wasn’t a wolf at all.


	21. Ol’ Blue Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Tiva road trip. Not very happy with this, but hey, I made it to day 21.
> 
> Day 21: Write about a winter road trip.

Ziva hung up the phone with the Sheriff’s Department. Their evidence and key witness were a 5 hour drive away. On a Friday. She was not looking forward to this.

She updated Gibbs with the latest details, he threw the car keys at her. Good thing she didn’t have any plans this evening.

Ziva looked across the bullpen, where Tony was going out of his way to not be noticed. She sauntered over to his desk.

“So, will you come with?” she asked.

“I would rather be violently stabbed to death,” he said with a pinched expression.

She made a face at his unwarranted hostility, and said, “I’ll get my knives, then.”

When she sat back down at her desk and turned off her computer to get ready to leave, he looked at her with some semblance of remorse. “Take the Probie.”

“Need him here,” Gibbs said. “Enjoy your road trip, DiNozzo.”

“Oh, come on! I had plans, and they didn’t involve dying on an icy road in a mangled car wreck,” he whined, but packed his stuff anyway.

As they rode the elevator down, Tony sent a few texts while pacing like a caged tiger. She decided not to press him on it. They were about to spend 10 hours in a car, she didn’t want to make his mood any worse than it already was.

Ziva couldn’t help but wonder how serious the date he had to cancel must have been for him to act this way. She ignored the way her chest clenched at the thought, and rubbed her earlobe instead as they made their way to the car.

Tony pulled the passenger door shut forcefully. Ziva put the key in the ignition and debated for a moment whether to just start driving and ignore his foul mood, or talk about it, after all. As much as his incessant talking occasionally got on her nerves, the times he went quiet and broody were a lot more unbearable.

She turned in her seat to face him. “Look, you do not have to come if you have other…plans.”

Tony looked at her, but kept quiet.

“It is a simple interview, at the Sheriff’s Department, I don’t need backup.” She watched his blank expression. “I promise I won’t tell Gibbs,” she said with a covert smile.

Tony huffed. “Yeah, and then you’ll go and get into some kind of trouble, or you’ll end up putting the witness in the hospital, and it’ll all be my fault,” he complained.

“Fine,” she bit back, started the engine and peeled out of the parking lot.

After 30 minutes of dead silence, Ziva cracked her neck and took a deep breath. She connected the iPod Abby had given her years ago to the car stereo, and Tony glared at her. He hadn’t been shy in the past about letting her know exactly how he felt about the Hebrew bands she sometimes listened to.

Her fingers twitched, and she gave him a hard smile as she pressed play.

From the corner of her eye she could see the surprise on his face as Frank Sinatra blared from the speakers. He let out a bark of laughter.

“Since when do you listen to Ol’ Blue Eyes?”

She shrugged, not in the mood to tell him after the way he’d been behaving. It wasn’t her fault his plans had been ruined, she had even given him an out.

 He leaned back in his seat, and started crooning along, and just like that, she regretted her choice of music. Because chatty Tony was—sometimes—annoying, quiet Tony was unnerving, but crooning Tony…crooning Tony made her stomach flutter.

And the thought of having to sit next to him singing, with that voice of his, with nowhere to run to, knowing he was dating again, that was too much.

She gripped the steering wheel tighter and drove a little faster.

He stopped singing two songs later when snow began to drift from the sky, and said with a smile, “Hey, Ayrton Senna, we wanna get there in one piece.”

Ziva slowed down, and frowned at his mood swings. She turned to look at him a moment before focusing on the road again.

“What?” he said in an amused tone.

“Two Sinatra songs and you’re over cancelling your date?” She kept her voice neutral, not wanting to pick a fight over something that wasn’t her business in the first place.

She felt his eyes on her, and couldn’t help but clench her jaw.

“I’m sorry about earlier, it’s just, this job really messes up your personal life, doesn’t it?”

“What personal life,” she quipped and he breathed out a laugh.

Ziva glanced at him again. “I really wouldn’t have minded going by myself. You didn’t have to miss out on a hot date.” It wasn’t a complete lie, she definitely would’ve preferred his company, but not if it was going to make him miserable.

Tony squinted at her with a lopsided grin, and her stomach did that fluttery thing again.

“It wasn’t a date,” he said after a few moments of silence. “There’s a Buckeyes game tonight, I was going with my frat brothers. We haven’t been able to meet up, all of us at the same time, in years.”

Tony was staring out the windshield melancholically, and that made Ziva feel slightly worse than imagining him on a date.

He sighed heavily. “I guess I was just looking forward to relive my youth, feel young again.”

“Psh, you are still young, Tony,” she chided.

“My body is starting to disagree with you.”

Ziva quickly gave him the once-over, then said, “Your body is fine.”

Tony smirked. “That almost sounded like a compliment.”

She smiled, and he leaned back in his seat again, humming to the music.

“Perhaps we can find a sports bar later, and you can Skype your friends?” she said after a few minutes. “It won’t be the same, but it is better than nothing.”

“And you’ll watch with me?”

“Yes. No, well, I can sit somewhere else if you like. It was supposed to be just you and your frat brothers, right.”

“Do you promise to throw peanuts at the screen if they lose?” He was grinning at her now.

“I do.” She smiled, and continued, “I will even cheer and boo when the situation calls for it.”

Tony tilted his head, and said, “Huh, I guess you were right, after all.”

Ziva frowned and glanced at him. He looked her up and down slowly.

“Looks like I do have a hot date tonight,” he said, then started singing “I’ve got you under my skin.”


	22. Hibernation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I took huge liberties with today’s prompt, which led to borderline crack three musketeers bullpen nonsense (season 4, I guess)
> 
> Day 22: Write about a creature that only appears in winter.

Ziva rummaged through her drawers looking for her paperclips, but couldn’t find them anywhere. She narrowed her eyes looking across the bullpen.

Tony. He must have taken them some time after she threatened to kill him with one.

Her suspect was currently enjoying a nap, leaning back in his chair, occasionally letting out a soft snore, and twitching a little. He reminded her of a St. Bernard puppy she once knew.

As tempting as it was to scare him awake, they all had a long couple of days, and even she could do with some sleep. So, instead of throwing something at him, she quietly walked over to his desk and glanced around.

No paperclips.

Ziva opened the top drawer slowly, trying to avoid the scrape it usually made. Unable to avoid the unpleasant sound completely, she cringed and glanced over her shoulder.

Tony sniffled and mumbled something, then seemed to settle down again. The sound had drawn McGee’s attention, though, and he was now looking at her with keen interest. She ignored him, and focused her attention on the drawer instead.

What she saw there made her brows furrow and mouth fall open momentarily. She looked back at McGee, then at the drawer.

After digging her hands in, she brought them up for McGee to see. A few candy bars fell from the top of the pile she was holding, tumbling back into the drawer. The drawer which would make Willy Wonka proud.

McGee’s mouth formed an O, and he walked over to her. He looked at the drawer full of candy and cookies, and nodded.

“It’s winter-Tony,” he said quietly. “He always comes out this time of year.”

Ziva gave him a questioning look.

“In December, he’s a like a cross between a hibernating bear and a squirrel,” he added with another nod.

She glanced back at Tony. He had added a few pounds lately, but she hadn’t thought much of it. And she had refrained from commenting on it, after catching him suck in his stomach while looking at his reflection in a window with a grimace.

Clearly he wasn’t quite as confident as he let on.

Ziva dug through the candy, not finding her paperclips. She closed the drawer, and this time Tony did wake up.

He wiped at the corner of his mouth and scratched his cheek as he frowned at her. Then his gaze fell on the drawer and he cringed.

Choosing not to confront his winter-eating habits, she leaned back against his desk.

“Where are my paperclips?”

His eyes went wide, and he sat up straight, rolling his chair back as far as he could.

“I don’t know,” he said in a gravelly voice.

Ziva gave him a hard stare, but decided he was telling the truth.

“Oh, I took them,” McGee said. “Forgot to give them back, sorry.”

She looked Tony up and down with a soft smile, said, “I like bears,” and walked over to McGee’s desk to retrieve her office supplies.

When she sat back down, Tony was still looking at her with a confused expression.


	23. The Christmas Shoes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Tony-focused, set during You Better Watch Out.
> 
> I almost cheated today, because I don’t really know any winter-themed stories (well, nothing that would be easy to retell, also, for some reason The Little Match Girl and the Snow Queen stories gave me Somalia feels--don’t ask, I don’t know, okay), but Sophie came up with The Christmas Shoes song (which I also don’t know) and that looked fairly easy to adapt, so I rolled with it. I don’t know how I feel about this one, but eh, I wrote something.
> 
> To those waiting for that fake dating Christmas sequel, it will most likely not be finished in time (for some reason it keeps expanding...I’m hoping that’s a good thing).
> 
> Day 23: Write a retelling of a winter-themed story.

He was tired. Bone-tired. Not to mention sick of the Christmas spirit everyone wanted to shove down his throat.

Tapping his foot, he checked his watch for the fifth time in fifteen minutes. This line was taking forever. And if it hadn’t been for his dad staying at his place, he would’ve gotten Abby’s present earlier, and been home on his couch relaxing right now. Without a sore back.

His dad was the reason he didn’t care much for Christmas in the first place. Sure, the traditional movie in MTAC was fun, but he always went home to an empty apartment. And now that Senior had introduced some Christmas cheer to his place, without even asking (and let’s not even think about the introduction of his neighbor to his bedroom), the emptiness seemed to have increased tenfold.

If Ziva hadn’t convinced him with those big brown eyes and a hand on his chest, to let Senior stay with him, he wouldn’t feel this irritated. He sighed heavily, that wasn’t exactly fair. It’s not as if she knew what funny business his dad would get into.

Thanks to his dad, he’d even been too distracted to pay much more than professional attention to Secret Service agent Winter. Though, that may have had more to do with his unresolved feelings for his partner, than whatever trouble he was having with Senior.

The line moved, and it was almost his turn. Finally.

There appeared to be some kind of problem with the kid in front of him. He briefly wondered where the boy’s parents were. Who sends their kid out on his own to buy shoes on Christmas Eve?

The boy insisted he needed the shoes, even though he didn’t have enough money. When he said he needed them for his terminally ill mother, who could die at any moment, Tony thought back to a time when he was that young. It was a memory he didn’t like revisiting.

His chest clenched when the boy continued pleading; he needed the shoes so his mom would look pretty for Jesus. No kid should have to go through something like this.

Tony grabbed his wallet and handed his credit card to the cashier, offering the boy a sympathetic smile. He hoped the boy’s father wouldn’t turn his back on his son after his wife died, the way Senior had done with him.

Once the shoes were gift-wrapped, the boy thanked him excitedly and ran out the door as if death was chasing him. Maybe it was.

As the cashier dealt with his own purchase, with a tired, yet no longer fake smile, he reconsidered the past few days. The past years.

For all the things Senior had done wrong in the past (a lot), and even the present (maybe it was time for a king-size bed), his efforts to reconnect did seem genuine this time. The fact that he showed up when he said he would, not needing help, had to mean something.

As much as he wasn’t looking forward to it, maybe he should try talking things through with him again.  Neither of them were getting any younger. He didn’t want to spend the rest of his life with regrets if something happened to his father and he hadn’t even tried to give him another chance.

And maybe, he should ask Ziva over for a drink after the movie. He had a feeling no amount of Christmas decorations could make his apartment feel as cheerful as she could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all who are still reading and leaving feedback.


	24. Après-ski

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Tony teaches Ziva how to ski. Sort of, also sort of Tiva.
> 
> Day 24: Write about a skiing trip.

“Thank you for inviting me on this skiing trip”, Ziva says as they glide above the snow in the chair lift.

“You’re welcome. It’s too bad my buddy had to cancel, but this could be fun,” Tony says.

“Could be?” she arches an eyebrow and he grins. “Anyway, thanks for offering to teach me how to ski.”

“I’m a really good teacher,” he says with a smile and more than enough confidence. She bites her tongue; this was going to be fun.

They get off the lift, and head for a quiet spot to the side, where he starts giving her instructions.

“I’m not sure a really good teacher would start his lesson at the top of a slope,” she says after stepping into her skis.

His mouth opens and closes. “I’m sure you’ll do fine.” Not quite as confident as earlier.

Tony gives her a few more pointers, and honestly if she didn’t already know how to ski, she’d probably break a leg with the advice he’s giving her.

She stares at him as he’s explaining how to slow down, and it suddenly occurs to her how much he looks like the stereotypical  hot ski instructor. She tilts her head thinking about what his scruff would feel like. Or what his chapstick would taste like.

“Did you get that?” he says with a focused gaze.

She feels only slightly caught, and has no idea what he just said. “Mhm,” she answers and waves a hand, making sure not to whack him with the pole she’s holding.

Tony gives her that million dollar smile, apparently he believes her, and she just has to ask, “Were you ever a ski instructor?”

“No, why?” His body posture perks up and he looks at her with hooded eyes, and she knows exactly where his mind just went.

“I’m wondering how many people you put in the hospital with your advice,” she deadpans and pushes off.

She looks over her shoulder and sees his perplexed expression right before he follows her. When he reaches the bottom of the slope where she’s waiting, he sprays her with snow while coming to a halt. _I deserved that_ , she thinks.

Tony removes his goggles and looks her in the eye. “Why didn’t you tell me you could ski?”

“You never asked,” she says playfully.

He harrumphed. “You could’ve just stopped me.”

“You were too cute, pretending to be a ski instructor,” she replies and playfully nudges him.

To soften the blow to his ego, she adds, “However, I know nothing about the après-ski habits in the US, perhaps you can teach me about that.”

She winks and the slow smile that forms on his lips is accompanied by a mischievous glint in his eye. _Sometimes, he really is too cute_ , she thinks. _And too easy_.


	25. Secret Santa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 25: Write about knitting. 
> 
> Happy Holidays! Or happy regular Sunday if you don't celebrate, or don't feel like celebrating anything.

It was Christmas morning, and as the MCRT knew from years past, crime didn’t stop for any kind of tradition. Thankfully, most interviews and field work had finished the day before. All they could do at the moment was run down the few leads they had left.

Tony was waiting to hear back from a buddy at Metro, and was thumbing through the GSM Christmas special. From the corner of his eye he saw Ziva hang up her phone, jot something down, and duck under her desk.

He sat up a little straighter, hoping to get a better view of what she was doing. It only took a moment before she popped back up and walked over to him, hands behind her back.

Her small smile piqued his interest and he put down the magazine. Even a fully dressed Ziva was more fun than pictures of scantily clad women wearing Christmas hats and stockings.

Maybe he should get Ziva a Christmas hat?

“Merry Christmas, Tony,” she said, still smiling, and perhaps a little too eager, as she placed a gift on his desk.

“You’re my Secret Santa?” he said pleasantly surprised.

He only waited long enough for her to nod enthusiastically before tearing away the wrapping paper. He ran his fingers over the sweater lying on his desk, enjoying the softness.

“Ziva, this looks nice, love the color,” he said as he met her gaze.

“I knitted it,” she said proudly.

“I didn’t know you could knit,” Tony said, holding the sweater out in front of him. He raised an eyebrow taking in the uneven sleeves. “Maybe you should’ve started with a scarf,” he deadpanned.

He watched her face fall, remembered she had knitting needles, somewhere, and added, “But, if I push up the sleeves a bit, you probably won’t notice.”

“I knew I should have gotten you a DVD instead,” she said and turned around to walk back to her desk.

“No, wait, “ he said and she stopped in between their desks.

He removed his sweater, and tried on his gift as he walked to stand next to her.

Ziva looked him up and down. “Huh, I thought it might have been too small.”

“Are you commenting on my winter body?”

She opened and closed her mouth, shaking her head with wide eyes. Then she rubbed a hand over his stomach, and said, “It is really soft though, isn’t it?”

The smile that had appeared when she started rubbing his stomach fell just as quickly as it had appeared. “You better be talking about the sweater and not my stomach.”


	26. Comfort Food

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I don’t even want to cook food, let alone write about it, so...Also, I have no idea how familiar Ziva is with Yiddish? I think she used some Yiddish words on the show? Anyway, I used this article about the Israeli stew as inspiration.
> 
> Day 26: Write about winter food.

“Ziva!” Abby tottered over to her desk while swiping her phone frantically. Clearly the Goth had already had more than one Caf-Pow, despite the early hour.

“Do you know how to make cholent?”

Ziva cocked her head, it rang a bell, but…

“I’ve seen so many pictures of it on Instagram,” Abby said as she thrust her phone in Ziva’s face.

“Ah, hamin,” Ziva said as she finally realized what Abby was talking about. “I haven’t prepared that in a long time.”

She remembered walking into her grandparent’s house as a kid, the smell wafting from the kitchen greeting her like the warm hug that invariably followed once her grandmother saw her. It always smelled sweeter than the hamin her mother made. She always cooked her mother’s recipe, though. Whether that was out of respect of her mother, or because she enjoyed the spicier taste, she didn’t know.

“If you don’t have any plans, I could make it tomorrow.” She looked at her co-workers. “You’re all invited.”

They all agreed, eagerly; it was no secret that Ziva was an excellent cook.

Tony sauntered over and looked at the pictures on the phone. “Wait, _that’s_ what you’re making? It looks like…brown mush,” he said wrinkling his nose.

“Appearances can be deceptive, Tony,” she said flippantly. “You of all people should know that.”

He stared at her for a few moments, and then he wet his lips and said, “We’re not on call, I’ll bring the wine.”


	27. Into The Weeds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I have no idea what the weed thing is about, I was still half asleep when I wrote this, and extremely exhausted while trying to edit it just now.
> 
> Day 27: Write about the frost on the windows.

Ziva runs a finger over the bottom of the window pane. The small line of icy fractals formed there a harsh reminder of why she was standing there in the first place. Her breath fogs up the glass as she peers out into the night.

Everything seems so quiet, and white, and harmless. It must have been so loud, though. And the white snow was anything but harmless.

Her gaze drifts down to the window frost again, and her chest clenches. This could have ended so much worse.

Ziva glances over her shoulder, to where Tony is. The lights in the room are out, but his breathing tells her he’s sleeping.

She closes her eyes and leans her head against the window, memorizing his breathing. Reinforcing in her mind that he’s all right. That when Gibbs hung up the phone, and told them Tony’s car had been hit by an 18-wheeler on an icy road, and her own breath had caught in her throat, that Tony’s hadn’t stopped as she had initially feared.

A change in his breathing pattern makes her open her eyes.

“You decorated my room?”

He sounds sleepy, and she can’t help but close her eyes for another moment as a smile forms on her lips. It’s the first time she hears his voice since arriving at the hospital several hours ago. He was already asleep, and she didn’t want to wake him.

She turns and walks over to sit on the edge of his bed, taking his hand in hers. He squeezes her hand tightly, and the force and meaning behind that small gesture make her breathe out a laugh.

“Abby wanted to decorate it. She said it would speed up your recovery if you felt the Christmas spirit.”

She runs a hand through his hair. Slowly, carefully, reminding herself that severe concussions don’t necessarily cause permanent damage. She’s had enough of them to know that. She holds back a chuckle; Tony would argue she _is_ brain damaged for not liking Quentin Tarantino movies.

“Her decorations included skulls and skeletons wearing Santa hats, and lots of flickering lights. I told her I would get something less macabre and less likely to cause a seizure.”

He clears his throat, and she hands him a glass of water.

“They wanted to be here, the night nurse kicked everyone out.”

“You’re still here,” he says in a hoarse voice.

She’s not sure whether the sparkle in his eye is a mere reflection from the moonlight filtering in, or something more.

“You know I’m hard to get rid of.”

“Unfortunately, I do.”

He’s smiling when he says it, which softens the blow, and makes her think, hope, he doesn’t want her to go.

He closes his eyes for a second. “I meant, it’s unfortunate that I had to find out…I mean…”

He screws his eyes shut and groans, and she squeezes his hand again. It doesn’t really matter what he means. Not right now.

“You’re like a weed,” he says.

Ziva’s frown will most likely be lost on him in the dim light.

“I suggest not trying to flirt with any of the nurses until your brain starts working properly again.”

“No, I mean…weeds are hard to kill,” he says and takes another sip of water before handing her the glass.

“So are you, thankfully.” And her chest clenches again when her mind drifts to the pictures she saw earlier of the crash scene. It’s a Christmas miracle he got out relatively unscathed.

Tony releases a frustrated sigh, clearly unhappy with how the conversation was going.

“Weeds can be beautiful, too,” he says quietly and yawns.

He has trouble focusing his eyes on her, and as relieved as she is to hear his voice, and as much as she wants to know what he’s trying to say, he really should get some more sleep instead.

“Why don’t you get some rest. You can talk my ears off when you feel better.”

“Ear, singular. You’ll be here tomorrow?”

His voice sounds drowsy, yet hopeful, and his eyes are already drooping. She smiles at his correction, and kisses his cheek.

“You said it yourself, I’m a weed.”

His mouth curves upwards as his eyes close. “A beautiful weed,” he slurs and drifts off to sleep.

 


	28. Winter Wonderland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Many thanks to all those who have left some kind of feedback on my stories in the past. Rest assured that I’ve read them, and used them to motivate myself to keep writing, or even continue a story.
> 
> In case you missed it, I posted a Christmas follow-up chapter to Faking Your Way Through Thanksgiving Dinner.
> 
> Tony and Ziva and a winter wonderland, that’s perhaps not all that wonderful.
> 
> Day 28: Write about a winter wonderland.

Ziva took in the frozen river, the snow covered bridge and trees. A squirrel climbed on top of the bench fifty feet from them, disturbing the snow on the seat and back with tiny paw prints. It jumped into the trashcan next to the bench, and emerged a few seconds later. As sudden as it had appeared, it disappeared back into the distance.

It was quiet. The layer of snow somehow seemed to muffle most sounds. Movement in a tree nearby drew her attention. A magpie flew away, rustling the branches, making the snow gathered there flutter down to the white carpet underneath.

“What are you smiling about,” Tony asked in a tense voice.

“It’s a beautiful view, isn’t it?”

She turned to look at him, feeling a calm sense of serenity. He looked at her with a blank expression

“You worry me sometimes, David.”

Ziva frowned. Tony didn’t like winter all that much, but the view to her right was simply picturesque. Even he had to see that.

Tony quirked an eyebrow, then waved his arms around. “How can you enjoy this scene?”

“Not _that_ view, DiNozzo,” Ziva said looking at the three dismembered bodies and bloodstained snow surrounding him. She made a sweeping motion with her arm in the direction of the stone arch bridge. “That view.”

Tony fiddled with the pen and notepad he was holding, and jutted his chin out.

“You’ll go crazy if you don’t stop and appreciate the beauty around you every now and then,” she said thoughtfully.

For a few moments, he took in the winter wonderland she had been enjoying a minute ago. Then he grimaced and looked at the crime scene around him.

“You’ve got mad compartmentalizing skills, Ziva,” he said with a sigh.

“I am not mad,” she said and clenched her jaw.

Tony rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Oh my god,” he muttered. “Get back to work, Snow Queen.”

Ziva nodded tightly, and turned to her right one last time. The squirrel had reappeared, perhaps it was a different one, and she briefly wished Tony could feel the sense of peace she experienced looking at the snow covered landscape before her.

She snapped a picture, sighed, and went back to work.


	29. Drunken Caroling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Tiva, drunken Tiva to be precise.
> 
> Inspired by the prompt “DRUNKEN CAROLLING (”that’s not a thing” “oh yes it is”)“
> 
> Day 29: Write about a tradition, which takes place in winter.

Tony still couldn’t believe they weren’t on call for once. Which meant that, for the first time in years, he could partake in a Christmas tradition he had loved since high school and college. He looked at his coworkers. Not quite as rowdy as his frat brothers had been, but they would do.

“Ziva,” he said dramatically while placing a hand on her shoulder, “you’ve adjusted well to the American lifestyle these past few years. In fact, if you keep your mouth shut and stop Krav Maga-ing your way out of everything, you could even be mistaken for a red-blooded American.”

Ziva narrowed her eyes at him. “So…shoot my way out of everything, instead.”

Tony blinked a few times. His gut told him there was something distinctly unpatriotic about that comment. His boozed up brain couldn’t quite keep up, though. He should probably get to the point before she Krav Maga-d him. Was that even a word? He shrugged and took a sip of his beer.

“There’s one tradition you haven’t participated in.” He looked at Abby and McGee pointedly, then at her, and raised his beer. “Drunken caroling!”

Ziva scoffed. “That’s not a thing.”

“Oh yes it is,” Tony said, and Abby and McGee chimed in.

Abby downed the reaming half of her beer, and hooked her arm in Ziva’s. “That is the best idea you’ve ever had,” she said. It came out a bit slower than her usual jabber.

Tony nodded slowly. Clearly all the tequila shots she had earlier were kicking in nicely. He stared at the Probie; face flushed, bit of a glaze. Yep, definitely getting there.

Ziva on the other hand was not quite drunk enough. He ordered another shot and handed it to her.

“Are you serious?”

She didn’t sound very amused. Getting Ziva drunk when she didn’t want to be drunk was almost impossible, no matter how much alcohol you gave her. He wasn’t sure how she did it. Was it sheer willpower? Some weird Mossad mind trick?

“I never joke about drunk caroling, Ziva.” He made an effort to look serious. Judging by her eye roll it wasn’t very successful.

“It’s a rite of passage,” he said and placed both hands on her shoulders while staring her in the eyes.

And there it was. That flash of mischief he loved so much. Well, when they weren’t in the middle of a dangerous arrest, anyway. She downed the shot, then emptied her beer.

“Lead the way,” she said.

Tony turned towards the bar, finished his own beer, then placed an arm around her shoulder pulling her in for a hug.

“Onwards!” he said with an arm raised in the air. He grabbed Ziva’s hand and pulled her behind him, while making his way through the crowded bar.

Once outside, the cold winter air hit him in the face, sobering him up just enough to realize they needed some attributes. He spotted a store across the street and walked over, the rest of the team in tow.

Ten minutes later they were back outside and he handed out his loot.

Elf hat for Tim, antlers for Ziva and Abby, a Santa hat for himself. Ziva wasn’t drunk enough yet to be convinced to wear a red nose, so he handed her a bottle of vodka, instead.

“Are you trying to get me drunk, DiNozzo?” she said with a lewd smile, but took a gulp anyway.

Tony blinked, hadn’t they covered that part yet? His gaze drifted to her lips and his mouth went dry. He needed a drink.

“We’ll start practicing here, in the parking lot,” Tony said slightly distracted by her smile, as he grabbed the bottle from her and took a sip. He felt it burn on the way down and looked at his teammates. This was such a good idea. Maybe they should head over to Gibbs’ later.

Tony looked at the bottle—maybe he had enough alcohol for now—and handed it back to Ziva, who immediately took another swig.

He began singing “Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer”, and was pleasantly surprised when Ziva joined in almost immediately. Halfway through, he stopped singing and stared at her again.

His three teammates were still singing, and he went to stand directly in front of Ziva, taking hold of her upper arms.

“Ziva,” he said loudly. “You’re not singing off-key.”

He gave her a stern look and she frowned, then drank some more vodka.

“What are you talking about?”

He shook his head wildly. “You have to sing off-key…otherwise it’s not real drunken caroling.”

Her mouth formed an O as she raised her eyebrows. When she nodded slowly, and her gaze began to drift all over his face, he knew the alcohol was finally getting to her. He smiled and took a couple of steps back, tripping over air in the process.

McGee and Abby had gotten hold of the vodka, but were still singing merrily. Ziva joined in again, still not singing off-key.

Tony stared at her moving lips. How did she keep them from getting chapped in the cold? He should ask her if he could borrow her chapstick. He grinned widely. Maybe, he could rub his lips against hers and see if that helped. She took the bottle of vodka back and took another sip while focusing her attention on him. His grin faltered, she’d probably waterboard him with vodka if he tried that without her permission.

She joined in again, and Tony thought they were either repeating themselves or singing too slowly. Shouldn’t that song have ended by now?

“Wait…you can actually sing,” he said as he leaned in close to Ziva’s face again. They worked together for years, he should’ve known this. What else didn’t he know about her?

Tony glared at her as if she had deliberately kept this a secret from him, and decided they should head for the restaurant a bit further down the road. McGee was stuck on repeat, so he head slapped him and sang the first line of “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer”.

He glanced at Ziva who was walking four feet from him. As he, Abby and McGee continued singing, Ziva looked at him with wide eyes.

“That is a horrible song,” she said.

How had she never heard that song before?

He shrugged, and when he sang “Grandma got run over” a second time, he noticed the antlers he had given her and began laughing.

Ziva cocked her head.

Tony pointed at the antlers. “You…you can’t drive…and you’re a reindeer…you ran over grandma,” he wheezed in between laughs.

In his drunken laughter he had completely missed all the merriness sliding from her face. She threw the antlers at his head, and he should really be grateful it wasn’t the bottle of vodka.

The other two were still singing like an odd background theme as he picked up the antlers as smoothly as possible. He stepped a little closer to her.

In his anger—why had he been angry again—he had forgotten how volatile drunk Ziva could be. From an alluring temptress to a fiery hellhound in a matter of seconds if you weren’t careful.

She refused to look at him, so he finished singing the song with Tim and Abby, who had now linked arms. It didn’t help much to keep Abby from teetering on her platforms.

Abby burst out in “Jingle Bells”, and he tried to get on Ziva’s good side again, by singing the Batman lyrics instead. She frowned and looked at him.

“What are you singing, that’s not how it goes.”

“It’s tradition, Ziva.”

“Well, I don’t know the lyrics to that either,” she said, waving her arms around. “This is stupid,” she whined. She stopped walking so suddenly, Abby and Tim almost tripped over each other trying not to bump into her.

Tony walked back to where she was standing. “How about, I Saw Mommy Kissin' Santa Claus?"

Ziva wrinkled her nose. “Why are all your Christmas songs so weird?”

Well, at least she didn’t look angry anymore. He leaned in close and placed his hands on her shoulders, his thumbs brushing her neck.

“Ziva, it’s drunken caroling,” he said slowly, loudly, as if talking to a stubborn three-year old. Why was she not getting this?

Meanwhile, Abby and McGee had struck up the song. Ziva’s eyes drifted in their direction, then to him, and then slowly up to his Santa hat.

Ziva bit her bottom lip and Tony’s mind drifted back to the chapstick conundrum from earlier. Abby belted out that mommy was tickling Santa Claus underneath his beard and Ziva touched Tony’s chin.

“You don’t have a beard Santa,” she said and ran her palm over his cheek.

And the way her mouth curved upwards and a glint appeared in her eyes, made him want to loosen his scarf. But then he’d have to stop running his thumbs over her neck, so that wasn’t happening.

Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and he couldn’t help but mimic the gesture. He hummed a little as his gaze drifted between her mouth and her eyes.

Was someone saying they should be kissing? It sounded like they were.

And then Ziva leaned in closer. Or was she swaying because she was drunk?

Her hand went to the back of his head, pulling him towards her. Nope, still steady on her feet, as always.

They bumped noses and Tony tilted his head. He opened his mouth, and before his alcohol addled brain could catch up, her tongue was already sliding over his. Her fingers tugged at the hairs at the nape of his neck as he deepened the kiss.

“Oh my god,” Abby squealed. “I’m gonna tell Gibbs.”


	30. Blizzard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I made it! Thank you for the support, it motivated me to keep going all those times I wanted to quit.
> 
> I decided to make this last one Tiva, like seriously Tiva, as in, if I hadn’t stopped writing when I did, global warming would’ve accelerated even faster, and I would’ve had to up the rating to Mature.
> 
> Day 30: Write about facilities shut down due to the snow.

 “What are you doing here,” Tony asked, running a hand through sleep-tousled hair.

“I am picking you up, as agreed.” Ziva looked him up and down and checked her watch. Why wasn’t he dressed yet, when she was actually 15 minutes late?

“Didn’t you get the text last night? Navy Yard’s shut down; no electricity, no heating, and you know, the whole blizzard forecast.” He waved a hand in the general direction of a window.

“Oh, my phone died. And then the electricity went out, so I couldn’t charge it.”

“Yes,” Tony said, “because of the blizzard.”

He stared at her, any trace of sleep gone from his eyes. “Wait, you drove here?”

Ziva scoffed. “Of course I did. There was no traffic.”

“Because of the blizzard. No sane person would drive around in a blizzard,” Tony said and raised an eyebrow. “Oh right…”

Ziva made a face at the comment. “How else was I supposed to pick you up?”

“You weren’t,” he said exasperated, “because of the blizzard.”

She rolled her eyes. There was no point arguing about this. If work was shut down for the day, she might as well go home and catch up on some reading.

“Fine, I’m going home, then.”

Ziva turned to leave, but Tony grabbed her by the arm, cussing. “You’re staying here.” He let go of her arm and stepped back, opening the door wider.

“Why?”

Tony closed his eyes for a moment. “Because of the blizzard!”

Ziva huffed, but walked inside and made herself comfortable, anyway.

“I’m going to take a shower.”

She briefly wondered whether she should remind him that there would be no hot water, but shrugged it off. A few minutes later she heard a yelp come from the bathroom and she grinned while thumbing through a GSM magazine she had found on the coffee table. He emerged, toweling his hair, wearing a long sleeve shirt and sweatpants.

“There’s no hot water,” he grumbled.

She smiled coyly, and said, “Because of the blizzard.”

He gave her the stink eye, then sat down next to her. From the corner of her eye she saw him look around his living room.

“What did people do before there was electricity?”

“Read, huddle together for warmth.” She leaned against him, it did feel a bit chilly in here.

Tony looked at her with a lopsided grin and rested his left arm on the back of the couch. He flicked her hair, then said, “I take it your desire to die in a cold white storm has passed, then?”

Ziva ignored his comment and turned to the next page. Holding up the magazine, she said, “I bet she could keep you warm as long as the heating’s out.”

His eyes went wide and he let out an uncomfortable laugh as he unsuccessfully made a grab for the magazine. “I usually don’t keep that on the coffee table.”

“No?” Ziva said with interest. “Where do you usually keep it? The bathroom? Bedroom?”

She laughed throatily as he bit his lip and started fidgeting. It wasn’t really like him to get awkward when anything related to sex came up. True, they didn’t tease each other as much as they used to, but she was bored. What _did_ people do before electricity?

Turning her attention back to the magazine she flipped past a few more photos and stopped at an article on female erogenous zones.

“Have you read this?” she asked.

“I don’t have to, I already know all of them.”

He sounded way too cocky to let it slide. “Really? Prove it.”

The words left her mouth before she well and truly realized what they implied. His eyes darkened considerably as he licked his lips.

“As in…an oral exam?” he asked in a husky voice.

Did the heating in his building suddenly turn back on?

“Perhaps a combination of oral and practical?” she suggested, and wondered what she was doing.

The lewd smile that appeared on his lips made her mouth go dry. And when his fingers started kneading the base of her skull she couldn’t help her eyelids from fluttering.

“That’s one,” she said, as he opened his fingers wider and lightly stroked her scalp.

Tony took the magazine from her and threw it on the coffee table. He held onto her hand and gently ran his thumb over the inside of her wrist, the fingers of his left hand still gliding through her hair.

He locked eyes with her as he lifted her hand and touched his lips to her inner-wrist. “Two,” she said, and licked her lips.

When he brought his face within inches of hers, she felt her body tingle with anticipation. She was briefly disappointed when he veered to the side, but then he lightly ran his tongue over the outline of her ear.

Ziva closed her eyes as he whispered “three”, before sliding his lips and tongue to the sensitive spot behind her ear.

He lightly kissed down the side of her neck, all the way down to the collar of her sweater, then made his way back up to her jawline.

Her fingers dug into his hair. “Four,” she said in a sultry voice, before kissing his bottom lip, then his top lip.

“Five,” he breathed out and sucked on her lower lip.

His right hand slid down her side, fingers darting under the hem of her shirt as he kissed her jawline.

His fingers darted under the hem of her shirt and he kissed her jawline.

“Do you think this is what people did before electricity?” He kissed her neck again as his hand slid up her torso.

Ziva arched her neck. “They did have large families back then,” she said in a smoky voice.

That probably had nothing to do with it, but thinking about anything other than sex was becoming increasingly hard. He hummed against her neck and guided her to lay back, his body on top of hers. Evidently, thinking wasn’t the only thing that was getting harder.

Tony stopped kissing her neck and pecked her on the mouth again. “How am I doing so far?”

They locked gazes and she ran a hand down his back. “Oh,” she tried to sound unimpressed but couldn’t hide the fact that she was breathing heavier. “You’re not even halfway.”

His eyes sparkled as he kissed her again. “By the time this blizzard’s over, I will have taken care of all your erogenous zones multiple times.”

He grinned, and his hand underneath her shirt set her skin on fire. Who cared if the heating didn’t work?

Ziva closed her eyes, arched into him, and breathed out, “I love winter.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and thanks to all who have left feedback in the past. It means a lot to me.


End file.
